To Pride The Humble
by Dancing Tiger
Summary: When the Task Force accumulates three new members, all of whom are considered 'deliquents' in Soap's book, are soon being whipped into shape by the vigorous life in the Task Force. What no one know's at first sight of these new recruits though, is the story that is behind each one of them. Both the perspectives of three young boys and the Task Force will soon change forever.
1. Three To Get Ready

**Thank you for joining me, Dancing Tiger, once again on a magical journey of love, hate, and banjo playing sheep! Well, the last one is new but you'll see that all in time. This is in no way related to Unmasking Ghost or Caught in the Crossfire. This is something all it's own! Give a hand for my newest story, To Pride the Humble! The first chapter swears a lot… I promise it will lessen. Enjoy and embark on a brand new story!**

Soap was in his office, sitting upright in his uncomfortable chair, and was looking at a paper on his desk.

The only thing was, he wasn't seeing it.

His eyes were half open, his jaw slack, and mind currently playing a movie of three sheep doing a banjo cover of Bon Jovi's "Livin' on a prayer." The only thing is, the odd yet peaceful dream was suddenly interrupted by the black phone on his desk letting out a long, deep ring. Soap's eyes shot open wide and his body went rigid, a small drop of drool falling from his chin to his uniform.

"Fuck" Soap muttered under his breath, but didn't bother to mess with the small stain as he dove for the phone. Dragging it to his ear, he tried to push away all of the sleep that hung over him like a fog.

"MacTavish." A gritting, rough chuckle came through the crackling line. Soap closed his eyes and drew in a breath through his nose, just like he did whenever he knew he was about to talk to Shepherd. The man was a psycho, Soap was convinced of it. Laughing and chuckling one minute, acting like he wanted to piss on your mother's grave the next. But Soap knew he had to listen anyway.

"John, how are you? You sound tired." Soap bit his bottom lip and gently massaged his temple with his free hand to stop the start of another 'Shepherd headache" that he felt coming on already. Soap answered in an authoritative voice, the voice of someone who had been busy working with his men, not acting like a dead man walking.

"It's good sir. Everything is well." Shepherd coughed once, and then made a small humming sound.

"John, what would you think about a few new men to your team?" The mention of this made Soap sit up straight. Of course something like that was a huge deal. Soap knew he needed a few more men to make up for the ones that had fallen on a mission went bad a few weeks ago, and with threats seeming to grow more aggressive, this was always a good thing to hear. Fresh eyes, more people to knock back down to submission, then go send those best of the best out on missions. Soap answered in a genuinely interested voice, and there was even a hint of happiness to it as Soap felt his headache fading.

"That sounds great sir. What are they? SAS? SEALS? Marines?" A pause, and then a nervous yet haughty chuckle came through the line again. Soap cursed under his breath as a throbbing at the back of his head returned. Shepherd was hesitant and had a tone to his voice that made Soap feel like he was being toyed with.

"You see Soap, they aren't any of these. They aren't even trained." Soap groaned. The last thing they needed was a few unruly mutts to tame and train. He responded to Shepherd with a taught ton.

"Sir, it will be hard for us to take in people with little experience, but if you really want it, we'll take them. Army? Navy? Air Force?" Another harsh chuckle, and Soap bit down so hard on his lower lip the copper tang of blood filled his mouth with a vengeance.

"John, hard to tell you, but they aren't any of the above. Three boys will be sent your way in three days." Soap felt his jaw drop slack, and his eyes blinked rapidly, as if that would change what he just heard.

"Um, boys sir?" The general finally let loose a full blown laugh that made Soap want to shoot someone. Or himself. Maybe both.

"Yes, boys MacTavish. Three seventeen year old boys just out of school. Fresh young minds for you to work with." Soap visualized the steam leaking out of his ears, and his face boiling red. He was honestly going to have to train THREE boys, still just CHILDREN with no experience WHATSOEVER to go into heavy combat?! It was like something out of one of his worst nightmares, the kind of dream where there were no banjo playing sheep. Gritting his teeth, Soap tried to respond in a voice that could vaguely be recognized as something related to tolerance.

"With all due respect sir, we aren't a fucking daycare center. We need well trained men who can handle everything and anything. We wouldn't be the best for these boys." There was a silence over the phone, and with a pang in his skull Soap knew that Shepherd was soon to switch to his "go for the kill" voice. It came over the line with uncanny accuracy to Soap's predictions.

"That wasn't a question John. I am faxing you their files. Good day." Then the line went dead with a click. Soap squeezed his eyes tightly shut and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, trying in vain to stop the bleeding. Soap threw open the top drawer on his desk and fished out the well-used Advil bottle. He let two pills slide into his hand and swallowed them dry, jumping slightly as a buzzing occurred behind him.

Despite the nice surprise it had given him, Soap knew it was just the fax machine sending him the files of the new mutts he would have to train into tip top shape.

"No." He thought grimly to himself. "They aren't mutts. They're fucking puppies." With a grumble he pulled the three warm sheets of paper off the fax machine. He settled back down in the chair that he swore was giving him posture problems, and glanced at the paper on top. Reading aloud to himself, Soap started to enter into the mess that would cause him pain for months to come.

"Leonard Kyle Boswell. Turned seventeen just a fucking month ago. No experience in military, lives with mother blah blah" Soap froze at words on the bottom of the page in bold letters.

"Charged with MANSLAUGHTER?" Soap threw the paper down on the desk and stood up, overturning the cursed chair in the process. He used his booted foot to violently kick the edge of the desk.

"DAMMIT! He screeched, and grabbed at his head as if he wanted to pull at the hair he didn't have.

"How in the FUCK did a guy who committed MANSLAUGHTER get past the FUCKING application process?! And how the FUCK did I get him?" Fuming with rage, the captain righted the chair and read the fine print below the bold letters.

"Served community service for two years after being in juvenile detention for six months." Soap growled, and curled his hands around the paper, wanting to scream. Muttering again, Soap moved to the next paper.

"Skylar Gregory Brooks. Turned fucking seventeen three months ago. No experience in military, lives with grandmother and sister, blah blah" Soap scanned over it and felt his heart sink when he saw more bolded letters at the bottom. Rolling his eyes and biting his lip again, Soap read forth. An explosion followed soon afterward.

"Charged with possession of ILLEGAL SUBSTANCES?" Soap threw this paper down as well, and didn't even bother to read the fine print beneath it. He scrambled for the final paper as if it would hold some comfort of getting someone who wasn't a delinquent.

"Merlin Elijah Godard. Who the fuck names their kid MERLIN? Turned seventeen the day that was required to even get accepted with a parent signature this year, just fucking great. A young little snot, huh? Lives with both parents, blah." Soap violently bypassed the rest and skipped right to the bottom where to his body seemed to boil over at more bolded letters.

"Charged with FUCKING RECKLESS ENDANGERMENT? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THESE?!" Soap stood up again, throwing the final paper down on the desk and wanting to let out an animal howl. He had no idea how the little snots with such criminal charges could even apply and get accepted in the first place, and much less be sent to him. They were an ELITE TASK FORCE that could not spend time wiping up society's messes.

Soap filed the files on the new arrivals away as quickly as possible, and sorted it out quickly in his head. He knew from the way that Shepherd had spoken it was no joke, and Soap also knew these pricks would be coming in three days.

Soap quickly thought it out in his head. He knew that he had to assign something like 'mentors' to each of them so they wouldn't recklessly endanger or possible kill anyone on base, or try to sell them crack. Soap hated nothing more than an undisciplined prick, and it if was a kid, it was worse to Soap, because then they were almost unfixable.

Quickly assigning the kid with the worst charge, manslaughter, to himself, he mentally handed out Skylar to Ghost and Merlin to Archer. Hopefully they would be whipped into shape by the day Shepherd came around. Soap groaned at the thought of having to train the little pricks, but sucked it up and sat back in his chair and fell back asleep.

Who knew that sheep could do such an impressive banjo cover for "Through the Fire and Flames?"

**First few chapters are always a bit rocky for me because I still have to get a feel for the characters and how I want to write them… If you haven't already guessed, while this is a serious story overall, it will have much more humor than my others. Please review, and thanks to XxFrostBitexX for help with the title. :D**


	2. Coffee And Gossip

**Thanks to all for checking out this story! Thanks for the follows, reviews, etc. I hope some of my followers from Caught In The Crossfire will continue to join me here! Thanks again, and hope you enjoy!**

The next morning Soap woke up earlier than anyone else, like a good Captain was supposed to. He tended to a few pieces of paperwork on his desk before going to the mess hall where his morning coffee awaited him. One cream, two sugars, just how he liked it. Sipping from the cup, Soap moved towards the door that led outside. The door swung open just as he arrived at it, and two men walked in. Soap stepped back to let them in, but stopped them as he realized that they were just the men he was looking for.

Ghost and Archer bid him good morning, but Soap held up a hand to stop them.

"Hey, I need to talk to you two." The two didn't even exchange glances as they followed Soap to his office. Soap opened the door and walked in, sitting down behind his desk and waiting for them to stand in front of him. Ghost ran a thumb under the edge of his balaclava, and Archer idly fixed the cuff on the edge of his uniform. Soap took another sip of his coffee before speaking.

"Alright you two, we're getting some new members." Like it had to Soap, the mention of new members perked them up right away. Part of Soap hated to break the news to them, but another part wanted to see how they would react. Soap opened his mouth to explain, but let out a breath as he realized there was an option that was much easier. Pulling the papers out from where he had stuffed them, Soap handed the correct man the correct paper.

It took only a few seconds for Soap to see the reaction he was waiting for. Archer's lips turned down as his eyes skimmed over the top, and Ghost's hands tightened around the edged. Archer's face became more and more downcast as he kept reading, while Ghost's grip increased to the point where his hands were trembling. Soap sat patiently waiting for the silence to break. Ghost was the first to take action, placing the paper back gently on Soap's desk, letting out a breath, and asking a question.

"Alright, Soap, hate to say it like this, but I don't see another way. With all due respect, what the fuck is this? A bloody joke?" Soap sighed.

"I wish I could say it was, but it's not. Shepherd gave them to us. We'll see them here the day after tomorrow. The page you just read, both of you? They're yours. You're to make sure they don't run amuck when they aren't training. Okay?" Archer bit his lower lip, and Soap could feel the uncertainty radiating from both of them. Soap pulled the last piece of paper out of the desk and showed them quickly.

"It's not a question. Besides, this is who I have. The kid committed fucking manslaughter. You have it easy. I've got them most of the time, but they're yours the rest of the time. Keep them in order." Archer and Ghost must have realized that there was no other way than Soap's way, so to his satisfaction, they both nodded and left. Soap sat down to enjoy the rest of his coffee, but only found it had grown cold while he had been talking to Ghost and Archer. Grumbling under his breath, Soap got back up and wandered back over to the kitchen.

Soap found himself caught in the stream of men that were waking up and making their way down to the mess hall for breakfast before working out. He saw Roach making his was at the back of the crowd, and smiled inside as he watched the eager young man. He had been their latest new arrival, and was one of the best. But now, he was going to be replaced in the role as newest by three boys.

Soap thought for a moment that he would tell Roach, and maybe the eager fellow would be a bit happier, but Soap thought better of it. All of the men would know by noon what was happening. Sometimes, the Task Force was worse than a high school in terms of gossip. If somehow the news that there was going to be a new gun ordered for the range was leaked, everyone on base would know by noon. If there was going to be some kind of sweet served at the mess hall that day, most usually knew before breakfast. The small, tight knit group kept almost nothing from each other, and new members was surely gossip that would spread like wildfire.

It wasn't that Soap was against them talking about things, or didn't want them to know each other well. It was more of the whispering like teenage girls and the risk of some apprehension that made him really want them all to shut their traps for once. But Soap knew that it wasn't going to happen. By the time the sun was all the way up in the sky, everyone on base would know the three new members, their names, and everything about them. Including the things that Soap didn't want anyone to know, but knew there was no stopping it.

Another part of Soap wanted to encourage it. It was hard taking new members into such a tight group. Everyone had to trust in everyone else, their abilities, their stability, and trust in general. They were trusting one another with their very lives on a regular basis, and living was pretty important to most people. Three new members wouldn't usually be too big of a deal if they were people with great records, like everyone in the 141. SEALS, Marines, SAS, and pretty much every other elite group come together to form the elite of the elite. If it had been one of the above, Soap knew it would have sat well with them. They would be able to learn to trust more easily.

But three kids? No experience other than maybe how to change a tire if they took shop, and to make matters worse, they all had a record. Not a good record either. A criminal record. The kind that criminals had. Not petty things either, like playing music too loud or trespassing. Big things that made everyone mistrusting.

True to his thoughts, by the end of the day Soap had been bombarded by questions about the new arrivals, responses that ranged from slight inquisitions to full blown rage attacks that complained about the 'delinquents' that they would have to piece together. Soap made sure everyone know that he wasn't thrilled either, but they would all be able to quickly knock the pricks back down.

Soap took a breath and knew there was little that he could do to prepare anyone for what was going to come. In truth, he didn't know how to prepare himself.

**Review please :D**


	3. Rebel, Skinny, Mouse

**Kind of off my game with this chapter, sorry. Hope you enjoy anyway! **

With nothing but making sure that everyone was clear to wear their uniforms regularly for quite a while to teach the new arrivals discipline, the base was ready for the three boys. It was early that morning, about six in the morning, and Soap, Ghost, and Archer stood outside waiting. Everyone else was already out practicing in the pit, or out at the range, or the track. But the three that would soon be closest to the boys were there, waiting for them to arrive.

Soap felt his eyebrows bunch together as a large black helicopter neared from the distance, obviously coming right for the base, no detour in immediate sight, and judging by the time, Soap knew it had to be the boys. Ghost coughed softly next to him, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose. Archer stood tall and silent, unmoving. Soap merely shifted weight from on foot to the other as the black aircraft touched down and came to a stop about twenty feet in front of them. A door on the side slid open and three small looking shapes slid out of the entrance.

They wandered over to the three figures waiting for them a few feet away. Soap stood tall and still as the three neared, each with a duffle bag over his shoulder, and squinted eyes. Soap felt his frown sink deeper as they came closer. Not only were they all very short and scrawny for task force standards, they were all in ill-fitting uniforms and looked like they had no idea what to do. After a few seconds and exchanged looks, they moved over to stand in front of Soap and the others.

There had been no pictures of the kids in the files, and Soap didn't even need to look at the names on the uniforms to give a solid guess to who they were. They lined up side by side in front of him, fidgeting and squinting, looking confusedly up at him. Soap resisted to urge to smack them all good and hard and instead looked down on them with a rough glare.

"Boswell, Brooks, and Godard?" They all nodded kind of uncertainly. Soap took a deep, controlled breath through his nose. They looked like they hadn't the slightest clue of how to deal with authority or the situation they were presented with. Soap barked a question at them.

"Anyone here have any training at all? Basic boot camp? Any discipline? Program of any sort?" All of them shook their heads slowly. Soap wished that he could magically teleport to wherever Shepherd was and strangle him senseless. They didn't even go to any kind of training program or boot camp or ANYTHING, and here they were on his doorstep. Soap growled, knowing exactly how he was going to treat the new arrivals. He was going to treat them like the little shits they were. He walked slowly in front of them, looking down on each.

"You know, why don't we start with this. Let's hear a NO SIR to that question." Soap took extra care to make sure his tone was deep and dark. Stepping back slightly, and heard a few soft mumbles that sounded a bit like 'no sir' but Soap wasn't going to stand for that. They were making his anger grow. He roared at them, getting right into the face of the one on the end.

"WHAT WAS THAT I HEARD?" All three seemed to jump a little and yelled a little louder.

"No SIR!" Soap stepped back and let a breath out of his nose. He actually took a good look at the three for the first time. On the end right he saw the tallest of the group, just about Roach's height, but with nearly no weight on him at all. His hair was already in a short buzz, and it seemed to be a dark brown of some sort, and deep brown eyes looked up at Soap with a kind of rebellion in them. Soap knew rebellion when he saw it, and this kid had it. His tight posture, hunched shoulders, and clenched fists told Soap the whole story. A quick look at his uniform told Soap that he was looking into the face of Skylar Brooks.

The boy standing at the end on the left was the second tallest of the group, but he was also the most wiry. His face looked gaunt and pale, and his hair was trimmed short, but not quite a buzz. His eyes were a deep half gray, half blue. He looked like a frightened animal, his eyes wide and his entire body alert. Muscles taught, back straight, and shoulders back. He was blinking pretty rapidly at well, which seemed to annoy Soap a lot. Taking a glance at the uniform, Soap knew that this boy was none other than Merlin Godard.

Taking a look in the middle, Soap saw the one that he would be getting to know real well. The shortest of the group, small enough to be a boy much younger, had to be Leonard Kyle Boswell, Soap's new least favorite person. His hair fell down to almost over his eyes, a ragged, unkempt brown. What Soap could catch of his eyes was a brown as well, swirling with green and gold, and they were wide and darting from side to side. His body looked like it could be snapped in half over Soap's knee, which annoyed Soap very much. The other thing that annoyed him was the boy was not displaying many signs of alertness, but more of fear.

His body was almost leaning back, muscles tight and clenched, and his face was a mask of fear and uncertainty. It seemed every time Soap took a step near him he flinched. It seemed odd to Soap such a child could be charged with such a hefty crime, but he also knew that you could never judge a book by its cover. Soap yelled a bit more at them about discipline before telling them exactly what would go on.

"Alright, Brooks, you, you're with Ghost here. He is going to be the person to make sure you don't fuck up any worse than you have already. When I'm done making your life hell, he's going to pick that right back up. If you're not with him, you're with me. Understand?" Skylar cast him a look that bordered aggression and rebellion, but responded with a loud and steady enough "yes sir!" Soap glared at Merlin, who let out a small squeak.

"Godard, you're with Archer. Same with you. Understand?" Merlin yelled loudly, and Soap was sure that he heard the tone that said that he respected the authority that Soap held. Lastly, Soap turned to Leonard. He walked up to the small boy, and leaned right over in his face, feeling the fire light in his eyes.

"And you Boswell, you're with me. Understand?" He roared. The kid flinched and cringed back, letting out a few inaudible words. Soap screamed his command again.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" A feeble 'yes sir' came from his mouth. Soap let out a breath again, taking a small step back. Not only did he get the kid with the worst criminal record, he got the one that was a crybaby too. The next indefinite time period was going to be a piece of fucking cake.


	4. Gun Shack

**This should be edited a whole buttload more, but i was so excited that i have had the chance to write this that i HAD to put it up. I miss all of you, all of you, so much. It is with great joy that i announce i am able to begin posting again. Still a bit sporadically, and not to be counted on in any way shape or form, but more writing will be coming to you! Hope you enjoy!**

The next morning it was made sure the new arrivals were roused as everyone else got up as well, and shoved right out into basic training. Showing how to handle weapons, and making them practice for hours. Then a few physical runs to see how they were. Then breakfast, then everything over and over all day long until it was late in the evening and they were ready to pass out.

Soap knew that they had their fair share of aches and pains in means of the new kids. The smallest one, which happened to be Soap's own, was definitely a weak hearted fellow. Just yelling at him made the kid cower, and after a few runs, the kid was practically sick. Leonard Kyle Boswell was definitely a wimp. Soap made it his personal goal, for a reason he couldn't understand, to run this kid into the ground.

Day after day of the basic stuff went by quickly for Soap, because it was the same routine every day. It was just like running the men like normal, but having to re-explain some stuff along the way. Nothing was really a surprise. The three new arrivals were sloppy in their shooting, nothing in means of the ability to keep pace and lift weights, and they were all scared cats. The kid Skylar, who had been charged with the illegal substances, was the most ready to go. Though shooting was obviously not his strong suit and Soap had to discipline him lightly a few times, he had a strong enough body and was learning quickly that he needed to be pretty physically fit.

As for Merlin, this was most likely the one that confused Soap the most. He was wiry, thin, and couldn't do squat. He couldn't shoot, couldn't run, couldn't lift, but had the basic bits of respect. If anything, Soap felt he was a teacher's pet. Always a bit of a kiss up, Merlin could be counted on to kiss up to Soap. This annoyed the captain to no end, and the thought crossed his mind more than once this was a kid who should probably be in med school. Though the things that he needed to excel in the task force were present nowhere, Merlin was always making scientific or mathematical comments about averages on the run, velocity, distance, and power related to the guns, as well as completely revolutionizing the way they stored their guns. Soap thought that he might find a way to get the kid into a desk job or strategic job of some sort, because that would be the place where he would excel.

Lastly, the mental survey Soap was doing came to a half on Leonard Kyle Boswell. It was hard to hate the kid, but soap found a way to do it anyway. It was less about the fact that he couldn't run or keep up with all the other men, or even the other kids his age. Somewhere in him, Soap knew that he couldn't expect the kids to do all that work. They were still just kids, and had no experience. But Soap knew that there was no room for empathy. In addition, Leonard couldn't shoot worth shit. Most of all though, the thing that annoyed Soap about the mousy kid called Leonard was the fact he was a scared baby, all the time. Cringing when Soap yelled, wincing each time a gun went off-which happened to be quite frequently- and flinching when anybody came by him. And whenever Soap looked into his brown and green eyes, the word 'murderer' seemed to be painted across his face.

The day that Soap ran this list of convictions against the new arrivals through his head, he was out shooting with Leonard. For maybe the thirtieth time that afternoon, Soap asked himself if the kid even understood what he was doing. Despite going over it what seemed easily over a hundred times, the kid couldn't seem to get what to do. And every rare while when Leonard seemed to get it right, he couldn't shoot if his life depended on it, which it very well might if he was sent out on a mission. A short burst of gunshots startled Soap from his mental rant, and he looked to see if by chance the kid had hit anything. Of course, nothing did, even the close targets. Not able to contain his anger any longer, Soap yelled at the kid with all the rage he could manage, which was how he usually treated Leonard.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You aren't hitting a thing, you know that? Boswell, you are the sorriest excuse for a boy I've ever seen! You can't run, you can't lift, and you can't shoot, or even think for yourself! Get over here!" On shaking feet Leonard walked over to Soap, who took a firm grip on the boy's upper arm and dragged him behind the shed that housed most of the ammunition and guns. The back portion was all in shade, and out of view from the rest of base. Soap threw Leonard to the ground, and waited impatiently for him to get up. It took the kid a few seconds to do so, but the second he was up Soap grabbed his shoulder and shook him, yelling at him with anger that he couldn't quite contain.

"You damn boy! I bet you think I wanted you here. You're damn wrong. I got shit like you shoveled onto my plate, and I don't know why. But I don't want you here at all. You can't do shit! Nothing! I should shoot you right here, but that would mean a mess and too much paperwork. You aren't worth my time, you mutt, and you don't deserve any of this training. You don't even deserve to be here! I shouldn't have to deal with you, but I do. I'm going to keep on making each day hell for you until you can pull your act together!" With the end of his rant, Soap used the back of his hand to deal a powerful blow across Leonard's face. The boy fell backward and seemed to curl instinctually into a ball, but while Soap stood glowering at him, he got up on shaky feet, only for Soap to hit him a few more times, eventually allowing the whimpering boy to go. Soap still fumed with rage as Leonard scurried away, but halted when he heard the boy mumble a few words before he was out of earshot.

"What was that you said?" Soap yelled, seething with rage still. Leonard looked back at him over his shoulder, eyes wide open, and shook his head quickly. Marching up to him, Soap looked down on the cowering figure. He repeated the question, feeling the strength behind the yell come up from him gut.

"I said, what did you just say?!" Leonard seemed to be almost panting, and his words shook when they came out, but he said them with conviction, such determination that Soap was momentarily stunned.

"I said that I've been to hell, and this is a cakewalk. Sir." With that, Leonard seemed to dart like a scared cat back towards the barracks, while Soap just stood there. Scuffing the dirt with the toe of his boot, he momentarily chewed over the words. A bubbling feeling in his gut made him question what such a young boy could have been through that compared to war, seemed worse? And make him so confident in his conviction of such? Remembering the quick sting on the back of his hand, Soap suddenly regretted the blows he dealt on the boy. He knew that his rage was just misplaced, and Leonard was the target for all of his anger at Shepherd. The boy was scared, and still just that, a boy. He had no place in this land, but Shepherd had done it anyway. He might be a criminal, and he might be a kid, but Soap knew there was more to the story. Soap knew that he could be strict and tough, whip the kids into shape, maybe change their ways, but there was a border between that and abusive. Soap knew which of the two he was acting towards Leonard, and it surely wasn't the preferable one. Especially now that Soap knew there was something else going on.


	5. Little Runaway

**Rawr. This needs editing. I've tried, but my heart wasn't in it. I mean, I was just frustrated that the pacing and wording wouldn't work out like i wanted. So, i just figured this was something i couldn't help, and was just one of those scenes that don't like to be written. So i went over it one last time and decided to post this shit. **

Soap went to dinner that night, settling down at his usual spot in the cluttered arrangement of tables in the mess hall. In his hand was a tray with some food on it, just a few bits of beef and broccoli, probably supposed to be steamed. Soap hated broccoli with a vengeance, but when that was all that was being served, he didn't really have a choice. Settling down with a fork in his hand, he prodded the mushy green vegetables with a fork, reluctant to pick one up. Ghost settled down next to him a few seconds later without so much as a whisper, just like a ghost. Of course, his true emotions were betrayed as Soap heard laughter seconds after he stuffed one of the green plants of death into his mouth. Soap scrunched up his face and swallowed, trying not to think about puke, crap, or broccoli. Ghost lifted up the bottom portion of his balaclava briefly, as to allow himself a huge bite of the tree like vegetables. Soap shuddered as Ghost chewed and swallowed without so much as a grunt. Muttering, Soap complained about their food preferences.

"Good lord, how do you eat that? You actually seem like you enjoy it!" Ghost shrugged, eating another huge bite of Soap's least favorite food.

"I do actually enjoy it. I mean, they're really tasty." Soap elbowed Ghost in the ribs, and the silent man's reaction was just to elbow Soap back, and this went back and forth until Archer walked up and sat down on Soap's other side. Soap sucked up his complaints and quickly scooped the rest of the awful vegetable into his mouth, swallowing as quickly as possible. The mess hall was in no way silent, but the three men side by side were until Archer broke it with a question.

"How are you guys doing with the kids? Merlin's a joke. I mean, he's respectful and all, but you won't believe what he said to me today. I asked him to pick a gun to shoot some targets about two hundred yards away, and he started asking about terminal velocity and ignition power of all the guns. Then he went on to discuss something about the accuracy in relation to something inside the guns. Seriously, I don't know what to do with him. Then, he almost shot me when a rabbit darted across the firing range. I mean, I just don't know." Soap nodded, sighing as he heard his suspicions confirmed. Of course, he was sure Ghost had his problems, but for Merlin, he was more of a braniac than anything, and a teacher's pet too.

Soap chewed the thought over while he sucked on a piece of beef that was a bit too fatty for his tastes. It didn't make sense that a kid like that, someone who seemed the type to have straight A's and a place waiting for him in the ivy league, was stuck here with a criminal record. Soap shrugged, and finally responded to Archer.

"You know, I don't know what quite to tell you. I think i might be able to work him into a desk job or something, but no promises. What about you Ghost? How's Brooks working out for you?" Ghost shrugged, emotionless and nonchalant.

"I mean, he's fine. As much as you could expect from a kid his age who had no experience with this stuff. He's starting to lift and work out more, but nothing like we need. HE can't shoot for shit, but I might be able to work on that. He's fine." It was all Soap needed to know, and as much as he expected. Other than the criminal record, Skylar seemed just about normal. Soap didn't bother to comment on Leonard, but the thought of the boy made him look around the mess hall.

Soap's eyes scanned over familiar faces and haircuts, and he mentally named them in his head. Coming to the far table, he had account for everyone and the two other new kids, but not a sign of his own, tiny, cowering brat. Another twinge of guilt echoed in Soap's gut when he remembered how he roughed the small guy up a little bit earlier out of misplaced anger, but now his absence was a bit unsettling. It was understandable enough to him that the boy wouldn't show his face for a few hours after the incident, but now late at night, the sixth sense that Soap had was tingling. Something was wrong, and it was more than a bit of beaten pride and the need to lick his wounds that had Leonard absent.

The words the kid had said earlier echoed in Soap's mind once more. "I've been to hell, and this is a cakewalk." With a grunt of frustration, he got to his feet, and looked at the two sitting next to him.

"Ghost, Archer, start looking for Boswell. I haven't seen him in a bit. If you can't find him in half an hour, get together some search teams. Check everywhere on base. Every closet, every room, every corner. You understand?" Without as much as a question, they both nodded, and got up. Abandoning their dinners, the three walked out of the mess hall and into the rest of base, ready to shake it upside down to find the hiding boy.

There was sweat along his brow when he regrouped in the now empty mess hall with Archer and Ghost. Soap knew by the looks on their faces that their searches had held to no avail, the fury in his stomach bubbling at the failure. Soap didn't wait more than two shakes to get them in gear once more, commanding them to get together groups to help hunt for him. No hesitation on their part, and Soap went back to his searches.

The past half hour Soap had scoured the mess hall and infirmary as well as the rec room and workout room. Nothing. Archer had taken the range, Ghost the pit, and then both had just searched the borders. Soap ran at a light jog to the barracks, seeing if he could find anything there. Ghost and Archer had swept through minutes before and 'rallied the forces' to search for a missing man.

The sweat wasn't absent even as Soap slowed and meticulously went through each room, checking behind each door, under each lump of clothes, even spaces too small to realistically fit the kid, despite his small stature. And all the while, something was stirring in his gut, and Soap tried to deny that it was the feeling of guilt mixed with a sour fear. Had he really hurt the kid all that much? Had there been some kind of emotional damage that he had to worry about just from that small little deal?

For only a few moments Soap felt hate at the boys weakness and obvious faint heart. It was really hard to, especially when the phrase that he had said kept repeating in Soap's head like a broken record, a soundtrack on repeat. "I've been to hell, and this is a cakewalk."

Not once during these thoughts did the word 'murderer' or 'manslaughter' cross the worried captain's mind. Nothing but worry and fear for a boy that might have grown on him, if he liked it or not.

Soap walked down the clear and silent hall in the barracks, passing a utility closet on the way, but then stopped in his tracks. There were very few rooms to go, but yet there was the softest sound off. The base was a home to Soap, and he knew every sound that each pipe made, where each floorboard squeaked, and this was not a sound that belonged. A small squeaking and whining sound, almost like an injured animal. Pausing, Soap tuned his ears to hone on in the sound, then turned slowly in place, coming to face the utility closet that usually remained locked and unnoticed. The sound came again, and Soap was certain that there was no animal making that sound. Nothing other than a human boy.

Without caution Soap threw the door open, and there Leonard lay. The utility closet was small, cramped, and stuffed with tools, yet the boy had found a way to cram himself into a small ball at the floor of it all. Rather than exploding with anger at the fact the boy had made him spend lots of time searching for him, Soap felt relief stirring in him. Leonard looked up a few seconds after the door opened, and Soap realized that something in his battle hardened heart softened. Tears streaked the boy's face, his eyes puffy, red, and full of pure fear. Curled on the floor, he looked smaller than ever.

Soap got down on one knee next to Leonard, feeling like he was talking to someone much younger, with a soft tone of authority in his voice. Paternal instincts might have been it. Soap didn't know, but he hoped he was doing the right thing.

"Leonard, come to my office. I think we need to talk." Though the boy obeyed, Soap practically had to drag him down the hall and into his messy office. Then, as soon as he sat the boy down in a chair and shut the door, Leonard burst into tears again. Silent tears, but they streamed down his face freely.

This disturbed Soap. His brows furrowed, and he started to gently question Leonard, and made sure to slip a subtle apology in there as well.

"Hey, I'm sorry for earlier, but what made you run? It took me a while to find you, so the reason should be pretty good." Silence and sniffles for what seemed like years. Soap sighed.

"Leonard, you can trust me."

The boy perked up and lifted his eyes to meet Soap's as he used his first name for the first time. It took a few moments of silence, but Soap realized something shifted in the boy's face. It was almost as if he suddenly accepted Soap sincerely, and believed him. He had a secret to tell, and trusted Soap enough to do so. Only two words escaped his trembling lips.

"My Dad."

**Urg. Hey, I just want to give you a simple equation for all of those in algerbra or higher. **

**x=Amount of reviews y=update date**

**x is directly related to y**

**xy**

**which means (in english) more reviews=less to wait for an update. Comprende? **

**Si! Me gusta espanol! :D**

**XD**

**Lol now i'm just wasting your time :DDDDDD**

**Squirrells+coffee=Dear god help us :P**


	6. Secrets to Daylight

**Thank you all SO MUCH for the reviews. People really underestimate the power of one sentence, how great it can make someone feel. That's why this is over 2,000 words, thanks to all my reviewers! *Warning-Contains sensetive material***

Soap shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he heard the boy squeak out those two words then break back into sobs. Leonard was quivering with such force the chair shuddered beneath him, almost threatening to collapse. It worried Soap how violently the boy was crying, as if he just discovered the world was about to end, or even worse. But it was not sorrowful crying, but more of something that Soap had witnessed occasionally.

Every once in a while, after traumatic experiences in the field, some men are never quite the same. They seem to be different, either more scared or more violent, and they might even have behavioral changes. And in most cases, they could be found crying at one point or another. Those were the tears that Leonard was crying. The tears of someone who was traumatized by something that they experienced, and Soap realized it might even be the hell the boy was talking about. What had happened to him?

Taking a deep breath, Soap stood up and walked over beside Leonard, putting a hand tentatively on his shaking shoulder. Softly but firmly, Soap questioned Leonard in a quiet voice.

"What do you mean? Did you dad do something to you?" Surprisingly, between the sobs, Leonard let out a rueful chuckle. It was disturbing how nearly manic the sound was, but between the half crazed laughter and cries, Leonard managed to let some words escape. Once they started though, they didn't stop, and turned almost incoherent as he went on.

"Did he do something to me? Understatement, right? Oh, you'll never know. He's gone now. Won't get me again. He won't won't won't get me. Never touch me again. That bastard won't lay another finger on me. Ain't gonna give me another bruise, another cut, another burn, another fucking hurt. Won't get me. You can't touch me. He's gone, so you can't get me. He's gone, you can't get me!" Soap pulled his hand back as Leonard stood up abruptly, turning around to face him, a wild look in his eyes as the tears continued to flow. Shaking all over, Leonard yelled at Soap, but the yells were not angry. Almost pleading and bargaining.

"You won't, right? You were just kidding, right? That's right, I know, you're not dad. You're not him. You're not him, not him. You won't hit me, not like dad." Soap rushed forward because at the last word Leonard seemed to collapse, falling down, and Soap caught him in his arms. The boy was still sobbing, shaking, the words coming out his mouth only whimpers.

"P-please don't hit me. Not like dad. Please. Please…" And suddenly, as Soap sat there with Leonard in his arms, everything made sense, or almost everything. Leonard was not just a scared little brat, he was scared for a reason. He probably was used to running away from anyone who yelled at him his whole life. His dad had probably abused him endlessly, and now, Soap was left with the result of that in his arms. A boy, seemingly ruined beyond repair, and no way to fix it. Gritting his teeth, Soap felt worse than ever.

Of course Leonard had run and not come back earlier. Soap had roughed him up a bit, nothing the average kid couldn't handle, but Leonard had a horrid past with that sort of thing, and was probably terrified. He had only done the logical thing that came to mind: run and hide. Now, here he was, obviously still terrified. Soap turned his head as the door opened, and Archer appeared in the doorway, a stunned look on his face. Soap motioned for him to come closer, and whispered only two words in the snipers ear.

"Get Rook."

Of course, this probably didn't help Archer understand at all what was going on. In fact, it probably confused him more. But Soap knew exactly what he was doing. Rook was very important for this situation.

Soap knew something that no one else in the task force did about Rook. Of course, backgrounds and family were not usually in the list of things discussed between people in the task force, but when Rook had a mild breakdown after a similar situation to what happened to Leonard earlier today, it turned out Rook had been hiding something about his past.

Of course, his breakdown was nowhere near as large, because he was grown and toughened out when it happened, but that didn't mean Rook felt any differently inside. Soap had demanded to know the whole story, and it turned out Rook had some awfully abusive parents as a kid, but had gotten out pretty early. He was about twelve when he started to move from foster home to foster home, and had gotten somewhat better. But that didn't mean he wasn't still a bit damaged inside. Now, Soap realized that the large man's small weakness and hurt could help this boy more than anyone else could at this point.

He sat with the boy for the longest time, until the door opened again and Rook walked in. Soap turned his head, and jerked his chin to indicate that Rook should walk in. The tall man did, and closed the door behind him. Soap finally managed to speak softly to Rook between Leonard's sobbing.

"His dad was like yours. Could you help him?" Rook took a second to take in the scene before him, and gave Soap an "I'll do the best I can" kind of nod. Soap let go of Leonard, letting him slip to the ground in a heap, and quietly left the room, patting Rook on the back as he walked out.

Soap shut the door with a gentle click, and immediately began pacing nervously outside the room. He heard more sobs and speaking coming from inside, but he couldn't really make out many of the words. He heard "dad" and "fault" but not much more. But to his great relief, there was no increase in tone or elevated voices. That had to be a good sign of sorts, and eventually the crying faded as well. But Soap daren't go in until Rook came out and got him.

It must have been years before the door opened and Rook opened the door, and allowed Soap to walk in. Leonard was sitting up in the chair, his eyes still puffy and red but most of the tears gone. He seemed much more composed and controlled, which was a huge relief to Soap. He went around his desk and sat in his chair, and Rook stood next to Leonard. The large man was the first to speak.

"Leonard will tell you all that you need to know, and all that he wants to tell you. I'm going to go get him some water and a blanket." Then, Rook looked down at Leonard and gave him a short nod before walking out, and shutting the door. Then Soap sat in the room, alone except for Leonard, looking into his eyes. It took a few deep breath's on Leonard's part before he could start to speak. To Soap, Leonard's voice was surprisingly balanced and firm.

"I shouldn't have run like that, but I have never known anything different. I understand that you meant no harm, but everything in my life came back to me when you hit me. My father was not a good man, always drinking to solve his problems. He was angry all of the time, and hit my mother too. He wasn't always that way, but started when I was about nine years old. He lost his job and couldn't get another one. It seemed I was always the target of his anger, if not my mother. I don't know if I can go into the details of what he did now… It's all too close still. But I know that I can never really escape what happened before.

"Right now, I can just say a few things. I can't change who I am. I have always been afraid, too scared to stand up for myself, to get help for myself. I am terrified of guns, and they make me feel sick. I know that you seem to hate me, and I think I know why. You must know that I was charged for commiting manslaughter. It's true, I did. I killed someone. I killed my father. I was only fifteen, and he came home after another failed job interview. He started drinking really bad, then yelled at me. He started hitting me and beating me into the ground, and I knew I was sick of it. I was on the verge of passing out I was in so much pain, but my hand found a bottle that he had left on the ground.

"I didn't think, only acted. I swung it up, and it hit his head. He stopped hitting me, and I looked up to see him fall the side, a big chunk of glass in the side of his head. He died there a few seconds later. My mother blamed me, said it was all my fault. I cried, saying I was only defending myself. Somehow, she still loved him after all he did to both of us. She brought me to court herself, and blamed everything on me. I got sent to Juvie for a few months, and was stuck on community service stuff for a while, but my mother hated me when I got back. She thought sending me to the military would solve everything.

"I didn't think that I could get past the application with my criminal record, but somehow I end up here with two other kids my age. And I don't know how I keep getting up every morning. I cry myself to bed every night, and barely seem to make it through each day. I hate it all, and I don't think I can do it. I really hate all of this, and sometimes I tell myself I hate you. It's not you, it's that you remind me of my father. Rough, loud, a drinking and smoking man. I thought ihad escaped him when I killed him. Coming back here was like reliving a nightmare, a hell I thought I left two years ago.

"So, again, I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused you. I just hope that you might understand a bit more now."

Soap stared at him, and it took him a few seconds to even form words that made sense. When the words did come to him though, they seemed some of the most right things to say.

"Leonard, I'm so sorry. What I did was wrong, but I didn't know. Now I do, and I can help you. I don't know how you got here, and I'm sorry that this happened. But I'll try and help you out all the way. I don't blame you for a single thing you did, okay? Think of me as a friend now. Rook too. We're not here to hurt you, and we're going to help. You'll see." Leonard nodded, and as Soap walked towards the door to let Leonard leave to his room for the night, Just as the wild haired boy was about to pass him, Soap was startled as skinny arms wrapped around him and Leonard embraced him in a thick hug.

It was a foreign feeling to Soap, to have a contact with such meaning to it. Of course, he sometimes gave some of his team members 'hugs' to say well done, but they were more of chest bumps with arms than anything. But this felt okay, to have something with feeling in it. He returned it briefly, and then let Leonard return to his room.

As he watched the boy walk down the hall, Soap lingered on that feeling of trust and friendship that was held in that small bit of contact. It made him wonder who could think to hurt a child, so innocent, so kind? It hurt his heart to think something like that.


	7. Simple on Paper

It took Rook twenty minutes to return, but Soap knew why once he saw the gifts Rook was bearing. He had a thick blanket draped over one arm, a glass of milk in one hand, and what looked like a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies in another. Soap let a small smile of satisfaction cross his lips. Something told him that it was just the kind of thing that Leonard needed. Something nice and warm and chocolaty.

Soap let Rook deliver them, as not to disrupt Leonard any more than he already had. To busy himself with some work, Soap headed into his office and sat down in his chair, trying to keep his breathing steady. It was still beyond him that anyone could hurt a child, and do so to such devastating proportions. With gentle hands, Soap reached gingerly into the trash can and pulled out three crumpled papers, smoothing them out on his desk, wrinkles of worry bunching up on his forehead.

The papers he held in his hand were the files that he had gotten on the three boys a few days before they arrived. The creases from where they had been crumpled were the only echoes of the anger that Soap had at the three. Things were so simple to him when he had first got the papers. He was getting three kids with no experience, and with a criminal record. Almost like getting pit bull puppies that weren't potty trained. Soap shuffled Leonard's paper to the front of the small stack, reading over the words once more. Manslaughter. A grumble of disgust thundered in the back of Soap's throat. Manslaughter. It was self-defense, ad well due. In Soap's opinion, death was a bit too good for whoever had damaged a child so badly.

With a slightly resigned sigh, Soap set the other two papers side by side, looking at the words on the paper, especially the ones that caught his eye. For Merlin, reckless endangerment. For Skylar, possession of illegal substances. With something more to the story with Leonard, Soap wondered for a few moments if it was the same with the others. None of the three seemed like criminals, or people with bad intentions at heart. Of course, he knew that he didn't see them nearly as much as Ghost and Archer did.

There had been the briefest discussion at dinner earlier that night about their trainees and how they were doing. Archer had mentioned a little bit about Merlin, but Soap had no idea about either Skylar of Merlin's big quirks or habits that might lead to something a bit bigger than the charges that they have on paper.

Things are so much more simple on paper.

Soap didn't sleep that night. He sat in his office, and doodled pictures of the banjo playing sheep that had haunted his dreams the past few nights. But that was not the reason he didn't sleep. It was because whenever he closed his eyes for even the slightest blink, he was plagued by images of Leonard's tear streaked face, and the sounds of breaking glass, and then the sight of blood splatter. It was constantly changing between that and images of the battlefield, the blood and bodies and screams.

It worried Soap that he was acting like this. He was never so upset by something before. His men had died, men under him. Some of those he had been responsible for. That had made him upset, but not the way that this entire ordeal did. And of course, he wondered more and more about the other two boys, Skylar and Merlin. If he didn't have to deal with Leonard now, he would take them on as his own, relieving Ghost and Archer. But Leonard now had shared things with him that bonded them, whether Soap wanted it or not. Now, more than being just a bit of trouble that he had learned about with a head aching phone call and a bother on a piece of paper, Leonard was a flesh-and-blood part of Soap's life. Putting his head down, the mighty captain let out a heavy sigh. Denial was coursing through his blood, denial at the denial even. Soap wanted to deny with all of his might that he now had to be kind to the boy. Of course, Soap felt the need to after hearing that story and the happenings in Leonard's life. But Soap was not that kind of man.

He was the kind of man that would grab a gun at a second's notice and shoot whatever had to be shot without a second glance. He was rugged, scar-faced man who wasn't used to having a heart. He was young, but combat had aged his mind by many years, and hardened his heart like stone. Sometimes, it felt like what ran through his veins was half blood, half gunpowder, and one hundred percent liquor. But to feel, be compassionate, and relate to another human being through such, that would be a big step to him.

Something had emerged from the once frozen heart when he first consoled Leonard in his office. Now maybe a bit of compassion pumped in his blood now, but Soap didn't know how to summon it back. Part of him wondered how terrible it was to want Leonard to actually be a hardened criminal, use force and anger to push on force and anger? That was all Soap knew how to do. Compassion and kindness, to cal that up and use it correctly would be more of a struggle than anything.

Maybe it would make it easier, Soap thought fleetingly. Now that he and Leonard had a bit of a bond and unsaid understanding, it would be easier to work with him. He could gradually get him less afraid of weapons, and maybe even convince him to work on his strength and stamina, work a little meat onto his bones. But another part of his mind told him that it might be too early for that, and could take a long time for Leonard to come to terms with what he had said and shared, and it would be a long time before he could recover enough even to think coherently again.

Bothersome thoughts as these swirled like low storm clouds in Soap's mind, haunting him into the early hours of the morning. Finally, just as the clock clicked to three in the morning, Soap collapsed face first into a pile of papers and fell fast asleep.

**Sorry for the late update! Sandy decided to steal my latest chapter, despite the autosave function that should have kicked in. Well, i rewrote it and hope it's good, and you enjoy!**


	8. Good Morning Day

Soap woke up to the sensation of someone grabbing him from behind and shaking him violently. He woke with a start, immediately turning around and planting a fist into whoever had touched him. Once the sleepy fuzziness cleared itself from his eyes though, Soap looked onto the hunched over form of Ghost, who was trying to regain the air Soap had knocked out of him. While Soap took a minute to wake up a little more, and rub the sleep from his eyes, Ghost managed to choke out a few words as he got to his feet.

"Nice hit. Right to the solar plexus." Soap nodded, and looked at Ghost with slight frustration sparking in his glance as he looked at the slowly ticking clock on the wall. It was about an hour later than Soap usually woke, which might put his day a bit behind. Grumbling, he got to his feet, swiping away a dot of his drool that had made its way onto his desk.

Leonard came to the front of his mind in a split second, and with still waking sight, Soap swiveled his vision over to include Ghost once more.

"Ghost, did you wake up Leonard yet?" Though he would have denied it, Soap's voice was slightly tinged with genuine worry. With no emotion on Ghost's part, and any facial expressions that would have shown hidden by a balaclava, but his voice was also free of them when he spoke.

"No, I didn't think you wanted him woken. I wouldn't have you either, but I thought that it would be best if you got up and started the day. You missed breakfast, but I had some saved for you and the boy." With a sigh of gratitude, Soap pushed past his lieutenant and out of the door to his office, lightly shuffling down the hall.

It was almost as if the captain wasn't aware of where his feet were taking him, but only a few seconds later Soap found himself outside the door to the three new boy's room, the place where they slept, and Leonard now lay. With as much effort as he could to make the movement silent, Soap grasped the handle on the wooden door and pushed it open as slow as he could manage. Despite the valiant attempts, it squeaked like the entire building was about to collapse, and each time it did so Soap winced as if he was physically inflicted with pain.

Somehow though, Soap got into the room, and the deep breathing of sleep remained. Leonard lay on the lower bunk, snoring softly into his pillow, and Soap looked on with a smile. He sat there for a few seconds, dwelling over the thoughts of last night. Would he let Leonard relax, or would he let him work off any remnants of last night? In the end, Soap realized that he couldn't choose for the boy. Whatever felt right to Leonard is what they would do on the long road to his recovery.

Using a calloused hand, Soap reached under the bunk and put his hand on Leonard's shoulder, shaking slightly, just as Ghost had done to him a few minutes earlier. Thankfully though, Leonard's reaction was nowhere near as violent as his own had been. The boy merely grumbled and slapped gently at Soap's hand with a mumbled word that he couldn't quite catch. Then, with another round of shaking Leonard's eyes groggily opened, revealing thin slits through rapid blinking. Eventually though, Leonard must have seen something. To Soap's surprise, Leonard's eyes shot open right away, and his entire body sat up abruptly.

Of course, since he was on a lower bunk, this resulted in him smashing his head with a loud crack. Wincing, Leonard tried to scramble out of bed hastily, only succeeding on getting himself wrapped in the thin blankets and rolling off the bed with a thunk to the ground.

It took almost a minute for Leonard to get himself together, and Soap tried to hold back laughter the entire time. Even though he was not usually a man who laughed, something brewed in his stomach at the sight of the small, slightly awkward boy scrambling around to get himself together. Somehow though, it happened, and Leonard stood dazed at what might be called attention. In small panting breaths, Leonard bade Soap good morning.

"Good morning sir. I'm sorry sir, I mean, for, uh, all this." A small frown traced itself down Soap's face now, as he surveyed the boy. He seemed to be squirming on the spot, anxious for something. With only the slightest moment of hesitation, Soap patted Leonard on the back. Instantly the boy eased up a little, and with a bit of prodding, Soap got him to follow to his office, where he sat the boy down in the chair across from him. Taking a seat himself, Soap looked Leonard in the eyes. Since he didn't have any idea what he was going to do, Soap did something that is usually quite a bad idea- said whatever came to his mind without a second thought.

"Listen, Leonard, last night, it made me think. I haven't treated you right. Any of you. I haven't ever had to deal with kids before… well, not that you're a kid. But an untrained person, that's what I mean. And, I don't really have a way with words or people either. So, whatever I say, if it sounds funny, just, ignore it. Okay?" Leonard nodded, and Soap went on.

"I don't know how you feel, so I don't know how to go about this whole thing. I just want you to feel welcome here, and to feel trusted. When we're out on the front lines, you're going to need that trust, and you're going to need the guys to trust you. We're shooting to kill, and you have to know someone has your back, and they need to know you have theirs. Of course, it would be best to have you back and training in the next day, or as soon as possible. But if you need your time to recover, I can understand that. Is there anything, and I mean anything within my power, that I can do for you?" As Soap spoke these words, Leonard shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had obviously been through a lot lately, and once more, this was a bit much to digest. But if anything, Leonard pulled himself together nicely enough to answer with a cool voice and crisp tone.

"Sir, I will be able to get back to training tomorrow. Today, I would like to help out with anything else that you might need me for. As for anything, I was thinking about my name. I lost a lot of things when I came here, and I lost all my friends when they thought I killed my dad. But they could make me smile… they called me Leo sir." Soap smiled.

"Well, then , let's get up and meet the day Leo."


End file.
